


the past is past (the present's nothing without it)

by fandomnerd



Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 09:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17464736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomnerd/pseuds/fandomnerd
Summary: Four times Otis and Maeve missed each other, and one time they got their timing exactly right.





	the past is past (the present's nothing without it)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Что прошло, то прошло (настоящее без прошлого ничего не значит)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18535600) by [churchill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/churchill/pseuds/churchill)



> title from "Love You So Bad" by Ezra Furman
> 
> .....I have no excuse for this. I binge watched all of season 1, got obsessed with these two, and next thing I knew I'd written this fic.
> 
> Spoilers for all of season 1. Parts of it are set during canon, most of it is speculative of the future. I don't actually think this is how it's going to happen, but technically until s2 comes out and josses all of this, it's all canon compliant and no one can tell me I'm wrong.

1.

 

Otis was happy for Maeve. Really, he was.

Just because he'd finally realized he was in love with her, didn't mean he was entitled to a relationship. He knew that.

And Maeve deserved to be happy, more than pretty much anyone else he knew. If Jackson made her happy--and why wouldn't he? He was the perfect prefect, swim team golden boy, handsome and muscular and now, as Eric had pointed out, "woke" thanks to Otis--well. Otis was mature enough to be happy for her, for them.

It had, admittedly, sucked to watch them make out in front of everyone, but that was Otis's problem--not hers. And sure, it had stung that the grand romantic gesture had worked after she had _just_ finished telling him how much she hated that kind of thing, but he guessed he couldn't fault her. It _had_ been a pretty romantic gesture. Had the same thing happened to him, he might've swooned too.

It probably would have been easier if Jackson weren't such a good guy, but he genuinely was, which just made Otis feel worse.

("You're allowed to be upset, mate," Eric had said, a few nights after Maeve and Jackson had started officially dating. "Unrequited love sucks. Trust me, I know."

"I'm not, though," Otis had said miserably.

"Upset? Or allowed to be?"

"Both. Neither. I don't know." Otis had scrubbed his hand over his face. "It's all my fault anyway, isn't it? And she's happy. I don't have the right to be upset."

Eric had slung his arm around Otis's shoulder, squeezing him in a side-hug. "Yeah, it's your fault, but you're still allowed to feel your feelings."

He hadn't said anything after that, but as much as Otis appreciated Eric's advice, he couldn't help but feel like Eric was wrong. Otis had forfeited his right to his feelings, and that was that.)

Still. He might've found it a little easier to be happy for them if Maeve hadn't largely stopped hanging out with him in the weeks after she'd gotten together with Jackson. But, he supposed, at least now he knew where they stood. He was in love with her, and she...well. She saw him as a business partner, fairweather friend. Nothing more.

And that was fine. He'd move on eventually, he was sure. And in the meantime he would do his very best to be as happy for her as he possibly could, no matter how much it hurt.

 

2.

 

Seeing Otis and Ola kissing--well, it wasn't unlike a punch in the gut.

Not totally dissimilar to finding out he'd betrayed her trust and told Jackson "how to get her," or being told she might be expelled from school, but not quite the same, either.

Everything else that was going wrong in her life was pretty much all outside interference. People being assholes, the universe out to get her, the usual. Not her fault. This, though? This, she couldn't help but feel, had been totally preventable. If only she'd been faster, realized her feelings sooner, if she'd forgiven him--

Well. There were too many "what ifs" in her life already. They wouldn't change anything. And who was to say he felt the way she did, or ever _had_. Maybe she'd misinterpreted everything.

But the way he'd looked at her, the way they'd connected...

(There were moments--there'd always been moments, with the two of them. Brief flashes of "this boy really gets me" and "I didn't know it could _be_ like this" and "how can he even exist?" that had dotted their whole friendship, moments she'd written off as flukes, or Otis just being a really good friend.

But then there was the way that his unrestrained smile, the one that only showed up when he was really comfortable around her and not wrapped up in his own head and awkwardness, made her stomach flutter like something out of a cheesy romance novel. Or the way he looked at her sometimes, that made her feel like for once she was really being _seen_ , instead of just looked-at.

Or his speech, the night of the dance. For as long as she lived, she didn't think she'd forget the way her heart did somersaults that night, the way for a brief moment hope took wing in her chest.

Or the trophy, and the letter--the letter that made her feel valued, even loved. The letter that had sent her running to him, only to find him kissing Ola...

Anyway. The point was, there were all sorts of moments where she'd thought _maybe_ , and _if it's him_ , and _for once I might actually be able to have something nice and keep it._ )

She realized she was staring, and spun around, feeling sick to her stomach.

 _Whatever_ , she thought. _It's fine. It's better this way._

Romance ruined everything. Having him in her life as her friend was better--they were good as friends.

So when she got home, she tossed his jumper on the clothesline, played cards with Aimee, and swore to herself that she was absolutely over him.

(If she gathered it and brought it inside that night before she went to sleep, well. That was no one's business but her own, and she was well-practiced at living in denial by then.)

 

3.

 

He was out of breath by the time he reached her, hands planted on his knees as he fought to regain his composure.

She did her level best to avoid eye-contact with him, but he might as well have had racing blinders on for all he noticed.

"What," he wheezed, "did Headmaster Groff mean by 'expelled'? I thought that was all sorted. It's been months since the suspension."

She finally met his eyes, her expression utterly unreadable and endearingly terrifying as ever.

"He meant I'm expelled. It's whatever. Don't worry about it. You're not in trouble or anything."

She adjusted her bag and tried to shoulder past him, but he grabbed her arm before she could.

"Do you really think I'm worried about _myself_? I don't care about that, I'm worried about you! This could ruin your chances at a good Uni--"

She tugged her arm from his grip. "It's not a big deal, okay? The Headmaster's a prick, and he was never really going to let me stay, alright? I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up. A scholarship to a good Uni was always just a pipe dream."

"No, it wasn't. You're the smartest person I've ever met, and if anyone deserves a good education, it's you." His tone brooked no rebuttal. "Isn't there anything we can do? A petition, a protest, anything?"

"Do you really think anyone would go that far for the cock biter?" Her voice came out quiet, more vulnerable than she'd likely meant it to.

He tried to catch her eye. "I would."

She bit her lip, looked away. "Yeah, well. You're...you're a good friend. But there's nothing to be done."

He flexed his hands, feeling utterly useless. "But...where will you go? You can't drop out, you're brilliant--"

Her mouth curved into a smile for the briefest instant, like the sun peeking from behind the clouds. "I'm not. It's funny--your girlfriend transfers in, I transfer out; it all works out. Like a student exchange."

A lump formed in his throat. "I'm sorry, Maeve. You deserve better."

He wished he knew how to articulate how bad he felt, how much he needed her, valued her, wanted her to stay, wanted her to be _happy_.

She looked at him, and seemed to read _something_ in his expression that finally made her melt. She shot him a comforting smile ( _he_ should've been the one comforting _her_ , what was _wrong_ with him, why couldn't he do anything right?) and nudged him with her elbow.

"Stop that, it's not your fault. This will be fine, seriously. Don't worry about me; I can take care of myself."

"I know, but--"

"Listen, it's not like this is the last time we'll see each other. We're still friends, yeah? And this new school's not _that_ far away."

"I guess..."

She paused, gave him another once-over, her eyes lingering on his face for a beat too long.

She hugged him suddenly, without warning. It had been too long since the last time--he'd almost forgotten how good she felt: sharp, angular, but still soft, the exact right height to fit her chin on his shoulder. Or the way she smelled, like cigarettes and fruity shampoo.

The hug ended as quickly as it had begun, and before he could say any of the things he'd wanted to--that he cared about her more than she knew, that he felt like they were slipping apart and he didn't want that, that was going to miss her like someone had cut out some sort of vital organ from his body--she was already out the door.

She lifted a hand to wave goodbye. "Later, dickhead."

And just like that, she was gone.

 

4.

 

Maeve was, by now, well-practiced at getting to Otis's house.

Unfortunately, on today, this _ridiculously important_ day, everything had gone wrong. Which, yeah, was about par for the course with her life.

She'd overslept, and then there hadn't been any hot water, and despite her rush she hadn't been able to decide what to wear or how to do her hair or makeup, and Cynthia had _promised_ she'd let Maeve use her car, but apparently her sister was in town and she needed it, so Maeve had been forced to ride her bike.

By the time she arrived, the late midday sun had tinted everything a dreamlike yellow, and the trees cast long shadows on the ground.

She attempted to fix her hair even as she waited by the door, hoping against hope that she wasn't too late.

The sympathetic look Jean gave her when she opened the door, however, told her otherwise.

"Sorry, love. You missed him by an hour or so."

 _Dammit_.

She felt traitorous tears of frustration prickling at the corners of her eyes, and forced them back through sheer willpower. She couldn't help the way her expression dropped, though, or the way the festive bag with the going-away present she'd bought him (she'd saved up her own hard-earned money to buy him a travel record-player to take to Uni) dangled limply at her side.

"Oh." She swallowed. "All right, then. I'll just, uh--"

"Why don't you come in, dear. Have a snack."

"Oh, no, I couldn't impose, I ought to get going anyway."

Jean shook her head, throwing her arm around Maeve and guiding her inside despite her protests.

"What you need is to sit down, and have some toast and nutella. We can talk too, if you like, though we don't have to."

Maeve sighed and shook her head, a smile twitching at the corners of her lips. _This fucking family_.

"Thanks, Jean."

For a while, Maeve just sat and ate in silence. It was nice; Jean had become sort of like a mother figure to her over the past couple of years, and the Milburn house had become one of the few places she actually felt _safe_.

But, of course, nothing good could last forever.

"He really was quite sad to have missed you, you know. He kept trying to put off leaving, hoping you'd make it in time."

Suddenly, her toast no longer seemed appetizing.

"I tried--I mean, I really wanted to--"

Jean shook her head, her expression fond. "Oh, sweetheart, I know you care about my son. It's...well, rather obvious."

Maeve ducked her head, wishing the ground would swallow her whole.

She could handle most things, but talking about _feelings_? That was too much, even for her. Still, she mustered her courage; there was no way Jean was letting her get out of this one. "Of course I do, he's my friend."

"Yes, of course." She hummed, and for a moment Maeve thought she was going to get away with it. "A word to the wise, darling. You can fool a great many people, but lying to yourself? _Much_ trickier than it sounds."

Maeve suppressed a groan.

What was she supposed to say to that? _Thanks, but I've actually known I'm in love with your son for over a year, now?_ Or, _I was actually planning to tell him today, but I was too late and it feels like a sign from the universe to give up?_

She couldn't say that. It was one thing to admit it to herself, but saying it out loud was too hard.

"Thanks for the advice, Jean." Was about as much as she could eke out. "You know what, I'm actually not that hungry, I'll just. I've gotta go."

She was out the door before Jean could stop her.

 _I'll just mail him the fucking present_.

 

1.

 

The University of Manchester was...a lot bigger than her previous Uni had been.

That was pretty much all Maeve could think about, as she wandered the campus and looked at her incredibly unhelpful map.

Well, that and whether or not she'd bump into Otis, though in a school of 40,000 students, the likelihood that they'd meet without arranging it seemed rather low.

They _had_ talked in the past year; video chat had been a godsend, with the both of them at different Unis, but between coursework and part time jobs and exploring the University dating scene, they hadn't stayed as much in touch as they should have.

It was one of the things Maeve had hoped would change, now that she'd transferred to the same school. Not that that was _why_ she'd done it; her education was the most important thing, and the University of Manchester had offered her the most substantial scholarship. But, well. Going to the same school as Otis for the first time in years would've been a pretty big "pro" on the mind-map, if she'd actually made one the way Aimee had suggested.

Unfortunately, scheduling anything required being able to find her way around, which she seemed to be utterly incapable of.

Which was why she was staring at her map so hard that she wasn't watching where she was going. And then, because her life was a cosmic joke, of _course_ this led to her colliding into someone--someone tall and lanky, whose papers scattered around absolutely everywhere.

"Fuck. _Fuck_. I'm sorry, let me--" she scrambled to gather what papers she could before the wind swept them off, but she was stopped in her tracks by a familiar voice.

"Isn't this the part where you ask me--rhetorically, if I remember correctly--whether I'm a complete moron?"

She nearly dropped all the papers she'd just collected, shooting upright. She couldn't have contained the smile that spread over her face for all the money in the world. "Otis!"

He beamed at her, looking somehow even cuter and more charming than he had the last time she'd seen him in person, at Christmas break. His dumb floppy hair fell over his eyes the exact same way it used to, and it made her feel nauseatingly warm and fuzzy inside. She hugged him on impulse, the papers crinkling between them as she squeezed him around the middle; his growth spurts prevented her from being able to sling her arms over his shoulders they way she used to.

He hugged her back just as tightly, and for a moment everything faded away.

After a moment, he pulled back, and reality set back in.

"Why didn't you tell me you'd gotten here already? I'd have helped you find your way around!"

Maeve glanced away. "I wanted to be more settled in, first."

He gave her a soft look, the unspoken _I know you can take care of yourself, but let me help take care of you anyway_ extremely visible on his face, the way it had been since they were sixteen. She felt her cheeks go hot.

"Well, lucky we bumped into each other, then. Let me buy you a coffee, help you get to your classes."

"Oh, I don't know...what would your girlfriend say? Becky, wasn't it?"

"Beth, actually, and we split up over the summer."

"Oh, that's too bad." The feelings she'd spent years trying (and failing) to smother fluttered hopefully in her chest. "Dave and I split, too."

"Did you?" A stranger might've found his tone adequately casual, but Maeve knew better. Her smile widened slightly.

"Yeah. At the end of the semester."

"Huh. Looks like we're both single. It's been a while since the last time that happened."

"Yup."

"Not that, you know, it makes a difference! I'm sure you could find another boyfriend in no time. Not that you need a boyfriend, or even want one! I just meant, you look great. Not that you didn't always! I--"

Oh, it had been a while since he'd last rambled like that.

She let out a small huff of laughter-- _not_ a giggle. She didn't giggle, and anyone who said she did was a liar--and sidled up closer to him.

"Otis?"

He swallowed. "Yes, Maeve?"

"Do you want to go out with me? On a date?"

"Do I--Do I _what_?"

"Do you, Otis Milburn, want to go on a date with me?"

He stood frozen for a long moment, and she felt a brief chill of insecurity run down her spine.

"Well? Are you in or out, Milburn?"

Finally, he unfroze, a rare unfettered grin spreading across his face. Almost too quick for her to process it, he ducked down and planted a soft, chaste kiss on her cheek.

"I'm in!"


End file.
